Sunday, July 21, 2019

In Which the Long Goodbye Comes to an End

I've moved a lot. Like...I think we are nearing the 20's at this point (but let's not count). It's part of the territory when your dad is a career naval officer. I have been exposed to so much good, and so much love, and so much world, and I wouldn't trade any of it. But as a dear friend once indicated, it means pieces of my heart are scattered far and wide, and that goodbyes are my least favorite thing.

This one has been a long one. The wonderful blessing of having so many transfer credits was that we were miraculously able to stay home for year. And it's been a full one of adventures and late nights and hard work and happy tears. It's also been a year of dialing back and carefully relinquishing and preparing for a big shift. And as I sat in my beautiful church congregation today for the last time, and as I write at this kitchen table in my mostly packed house, the length of the goodbye doesn't make the sting any less.

Living in this place, nestled in the northern part of a northern country in the northern hemisphere with a culture and land mass that, before our arrival had been largely foreign to me, it has become home. A home to this girl who regards the concept pretty fluidly. 

And so it only felt appropriate to pen an ode to this time of our lives. In this special place we brought three little boys into this world. We leaned on each other and our friends heavily. We laughed and learned and felt so much love. That is so much of what makes a home, isn't it? Laughter and love. And there has been so much of it here. 

A wise and beautiful friend had a poignant moment during a time of change in her life once, where she was reminded the importance of looking back even as she moved forward. We don't know what the future will bring. We hope that it will be a stronger family and another degree. We are excited and optimistic mixed with a healthy dose of anxiety. But with this week of goodbyes and so long's and good lucks I look back and my heart is overflowing with love and gratitude for this season of our lives. For the friends it brought us, for the reliance and trust it has fostered in each other, for the lives it witnessed us bear, for the growth it allowed for and the lessons it taught us. 

Life is good friends. And hard. And magic and heartache and joy. Today I'm just leaning hard into gratitude for all of it. 


Wednesday, April 24, 2019

In Which an Overdue Update is Given

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Life is busy. We like it (usually) that way). And it isn't likely to slow down anytime soon.

Acting on more than a few nudges and promptings and with a five month old baby, last January I did something out of my comfort zone, and applied two of Canada's midwifery programs. I think I did it partly so that I could say I tried, and put the dream to bed. Sane people don't go back to school with small kids in their 30's. They don't move across the country and take their families with them. Besides, there are only six midwifery programs in Canada (one being open only to residents of Quebec) and they are very competitive with an average of 400 applicants vying for, program dependent, 12-30 seats. It wasn't going to happen and I was ok with that. But I needed to stop researching programs at 3 am while nursing babies because I don't think most sane people do that either.

And then the unthinkable happened. I got in. And a world of possibility, anxiety, and adventure opened up like a chasm demanding consideration. Jim had been 100% on board since I had applied. "If you get in of course we'll go" he'd say, while my risk averse self kept saying "no we'll just think about it". God bless husbands who push their wives in the right direction when they need to be pushed. The stars mostly aligned, they credited far more from my first degree than I ever hoped they would, and so we have managed to live one more year in Alberta before the big move. It's been full. I've still been working two days a week and taking distance courses to fill gaps and most nights have seen me working until 11 pm on assignments because trying to study with three small ninja turtles awake just isn't possible on any planet. But I think I know how lucky I am to be able to work this hard for something I want this much.

I remember vividly Leo's birth. There was a female resident there that day. Just a young thing, she looked to be in her early twenties but she was excellent. I remember lying there on the birth bed holding my newborn and feeling the most ridiculous yearning to be her. To be there as women delivered their babies. To guide them through the process. To be their care provider. I brushed it off as ridiculous, because it was. But it just wouldn't go away.

Twenty months later here we are. Still ridiculous. Still unable to brush the feeling off. All of the coursework I can complete before we can go is done. We have a summer to make memories and enjoy the midnight sun and love on all of our friends before we turn our lives upside down. And it feels almost like being 40 weeks pregnant again when I couldn't wait to see what life would be like on the other side and I knew my body had done all it could do. You know it'll be different. You just don't know how.

The anxiety is real, but writing has always let me put my feelings in places that somehow made them more tangible and thereby more manageable. I know that there is no small amount of risk being taken here. I know that I'm relinquishing my status as a primary parent to a rockstar partner, and that that handoff is going to be hard for me. I know that the program is rigorous and that we will all pay a price for me to do this. Writing that last sentence I can't help but pause, because I don't know if that's fair. Daring in this kind of way means I may fail. We may fail. But there's lessons even in that.

Send your prayers over the next three years. We'll need them, and we'll love you for them.

PS Lest you forget what any of us look like, here's some snapped photos from a recent trip to Jasper. I'm not the greatest at taking photos, taking risks is the current project I'm working on ;)







Overheard

Life is busy. Like real busy. This morning we did the standard mad morning rush for school. Part of Adam's school curriculum includes swimming lessons with his class. While packing lunches this morning I asked him to grab his swimming stuff.

Spoiler: he didn't.

We realized this halfway to school. Today was a work day for me (I work two days a week at Adam's school) and so turning around to grab it wasn't an option. The best I could pull off was when I took Ben (who's in morning preschool at the same school) home for lunch to the babysitter (Auntie's who babysit are angels sent straight from heaven) and grab it then. The timing was gonna be tight. Like I said, it's busy. I was pretty sure I could pull it off but I wanted to let, if nothing else, the potential for natural consequences to sink in for a minute.

And then, as concerned as a six year old who might miss swimming with his class could be he said: "mom can we say a prayer that you can get them to me in time?"

Mom heart melted. "OF COURSE WE CAN PRAY"

Adam: "but what if it doesn't work?"

A conversation on faith ensued. You only need a little bit of faith to work miracles. But knowing it might not work is part of the gamble, and acknowledging doubt is part of practicing faith.

Little brother Ben to the rescue "Mom, don't worry I have LOTS OF FAITH". If it was a competition Ben wins on pure exuberance alone.

Adam doing his best to grasp the concept: "no too much isn't good either Benny! You have to have just ENOUGH faith"

Further conversations on faith and a prayer ensued.

The boy got his swim trunks by the skin of his teeth.

Hopefully lessons on both faith and listening to mom made a dent.

Life is busy. But it's pretty great.